I continued my rambles in the suburbs on the following day. Here, dilapidation and ruin, and the want of cultivation, are too palpable. Churches built centuries ago, and now surrounded only by a few poor Indian huts, form a sad but instructive commentary upon the insufficiency of arbitrary power, under the control of a religious hierarchy, to develope the intellectual or the physical resources of a people. Decay and desolation have overtaken all those institutions of an elder time, which now but serve, like the footsteps upon the shore of a deserted island, to prove the former presence of a more vigorous civilization. The hand of man has rarely interfered to protect these solemn memorials from oblivion. The grounds around them are but little cultivated, and are mostly covered by a thick growth of furze, with an occasional cocoa, orange, or tamarind tree. Here, however, the _ramon_ grows to a great height, and is very valuable, its leaves and branches affording a nutricious food for horses. About two miles from the city is a cemetery, appropriated to the dead of Merida. It is located in a beautiful situation; but, like most other public places in this country, it has been utterly neglected. It comprehends about half an acre of land, surrounded by a high wall; and is under the charge of a Catholic priest, who resides upon the premises. Those who can afford it are provided with vaults, built upon the surface of the ground. The poor are interred beneath the soil. The priest in charge does not seem to have permitted his solemn vicinage to disturb his digestion or dampen his spirits. His sleek and portly appearance reminded me, at once, of the “fat, round, oily little man of God,” whose repose Thomson disturbs in his Castle of Indolence. He was kind and attentive in showing the premises; but his conversation was very feeble, and indicated a mind almost demented with superstition. The thermometer now, though the middle of January, ranges at about eighty. We have occasional showers, but the weather continues to be delightful. The mornings and evenings are perfectly enchanting. The climate is not so uniform as that of Cuba; rains are more frequent, and the dews more abundant. Colds and influenzas are common; and on this account it cannot, I think, be recommended to invalids with pulmonary affections.